


We Didn't Talk About Such Things

by Phoenixflames12



Series: An Endless Night: Extended Scenes [7]
Category: Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - World War II, F/M, Gotham's Writing Workshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 18:00:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoenixflames12/pseuds/Phoenixflames12
Summary: 20th June, 1940Lady Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp Fraser hears of the Allies' surrender and her husband's potential capture by the German forces from her sister-in-law, Jenny Murray





	We Didn't Talk About Such Things

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before the main action of An Endless Night, so it's not necessary to have read that one first.

**_‘We didn’t talk about such things’_ **

****

** 20th June 1940  **

****

‘Claire? Are ye there?’ Jenny’s voice cracks against the buzz of the breaking connection and Claire clutches the receiver harder, trying to still the heavy throb of her heart that is thundering through her ears.

 

She can hear the girls shrieking out on the laundry green in the midst of their make-believe with Bran leaping and snapping after them, William asleep in his pram under the ash tree with the chickens and their dust baths.

 

The war seems very far away and yet as she grips the telephone harder, twisting round to look at the wedding photograph on the mantelpiece, it suddenly floods back to her. Jamie’s last letter, written whilst he was still in Blighty and waiting for his complete orders out to France, sits tucked behind the Elmwood frame. A copy of the Inverness Courier is still folded on the kitchen table, the headline that she cannot bring herself to read, glaring out into the world in stark, black capitals.

‘Yes,’ she hears herself whisper, not trusting her voice.

 

‘Yes, Jenny. I’m here.’

 

‘Have… Have ye heard the news then?’ Her sister-in-law’s voice is wobbling dangerously, and, in that moment, Claire wants nothing more than to reach through the phone and hold her close.

 

‘Heard what?’

 

The words fall through her throat like ice cold stones, the memory of her husband’s face as he had looked nine months ago, swimming before her eyes. Broad, high cheekbones that housed blazing blue cat eyes which both the girls have inherited gleaming down at her, his crop of auburn curls pressed firmly back under his officer’s cap as he held her on the platform amid a sea of smoke kissed farewells.

 

‘ _I’ll be back before ye know it, mo nighean don,’_ he’d whispered, cupping her cheek and titling her chin up to meet his, a smile crinkling at the corner of his lips. The kiss had been slow and lingering, one of desperate love and longing. _‘And I’ll never forget you, or the bairns. Remember that.’_

 

‘ _I wish you didn’t have to go,’_ she’d replied just as quietly, one hand flat against his chest, the silver interlace pattern of his wedding ring gleaming against the dark green of his battledress tunic, Brianna’s palm hot and heavy in her own.

 

And he had grinned at her, the smile not quite reaching his eyes; a small, humourless laugh catching in his throat. ‘ _Ye marry an officer and say such a thing to him, mo duinne? You should ken me better than that!’_

 

On the other end of the receiver, Jenny gives a tremendous sniff that sends a shiver down Claire’s spine. It takes a lot to upset her formidable sister-in-law and so to hear her so completely undone is quite the shock.

 

‘Jenny, what is it? You… You’re frightening me,’ outside the kitchen window, she can see Faith skittering backwards, a hand clutching a fistful of ox-eye daisies raised in greeting; her bonny, freckled face split with smiles.

 

_If it was Jamie… If anything had happened to him or the regiment… If… If… If.._

 

‘France!’ Jenny blurts out at last, the line crackling ominously so that Claire clutches the receiver harder, hoping against hope that what she thinks Jenny is telling her isn’t true.

 

‘The Germans… The Germans’ve invaded France. The men… _A Dhia,_ Claire… The men….’

 

She can’t continue, but Claire understands her meaning with sickening clarity.  

 

Claire hears soft endearments come through lips that feel suddenly as cold as ice but can’t understand what she’s saying.

 

_No._

_Gods, please, no._

_Not Joe._

_Not Ian._

_Not… Not Jamie…_

_What… How is she going to tell the children?_

It takes a moment that feels like an eternity before she realises that Jenny’s asked her a question.

 

‘I… I’m sorry Jenny. What did you say?’

 

She can’t keep her voice from shaking.

 

‘I… I said…’ A tear-stained gulp on the other end and Claire’s heart crumbles, clutching at the receiver with both hands, her knees shaking dangerously, willing herself to stay upright.

 

‘I said did you talk about what would happen if my brother… If Jamie….’

 

_My brother._

 

_Jenny._

_Oh Jenny, I am sorry!_

_And suddenly she is back in their bedroom, lying in a cocoon of softness. Lying with the warmth and strength of Jamie’s arm circled around her, listening to the soft chatter of the dawn chorus filtering through the summer breeze._

_‘I love you’, she’d whispered, her head resting on his chest, the soft prickle of his chest hairs pillowing her cheek._

_A deep, rumbling laugh had echoed through his chest and he had bent to her, sleep filled lips brushing the crown of her curls._

_‘And I you, Sassenach. Ye’ll never ken how much.’_

Something hot and fierce stings Claire’s eyes at the memory, tears that she suddenly doesn’t have the strength to stem, soaking her cheeks.

 

‘No,’ she manages at last, her voice a thin, wet whisper. Her eyes travel hopelessly to the kitchen window where Bree and Faith have dragged out a picnic rug and are sat under the tree with William sipping home-made lemonade, Bran’s pink tongue lolling in the heat.

 

_How on earth is she going to break the news to them that their father has been taken prisoner? That the man whom they love above all things might be dead for all they know?_

 

‘We didn’t talk about such things,’ she says at last, the words chipped and broken like there are a thousand shards of glass on her tongue.’ How could we?’

 

* * *

 

_**Fin** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to read and review! Comments, suggestions, constructive criticisms etc are like chocolate to my brain!
> 
> Much love and enjoy x


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